


Bella Notte

by Last_Haven



Series: The Beat Goes On [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Last_Haven/pseuds/Last_Haven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliciano views the world through the mindset of an artist at all times, even if he's on a date. Ludwig doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bella Notte

**Author's Note:**

> This was the request made for the 100th review benchmark for I Can't Stop Loving You on fanfiction dot net. This is set before Alfred meets the Vargas brothers.

                The rain pounded hard against the café windows, blurring the world outside into streaks of color, all running but never blending to the point that the world became a mess of grays and browns. It made Feliciano smile; _God is doing expressive painting_ he told his grandfather once when he was small, during another storm just like this. While his parents scolded him for his blasphemy, his grandfather only laughed and patted his head, proclaiming his agreement over his parents’ reprimand. “God is doing abstract expressive painting,” he murmured to himself, smiling while people scurried around outside the windows, adding their colors to the portrait.

                Across from him, Ludwig grunted after he finished taking a long sip of his coffee, still too hot to just take a swig. At least the heated cup would warm Ludwig’s cramped fingers; Feliciano would wrap his own around Ludwig’s if it would help, but his fingers were just as frozen. Once his fingers thawed he would reach over and grab Ludwig’s hand, perhaps admiring the contrast of his warmer skin tone, or the small folds around Ludwig’s knuckles. “I didn’t know God painted,” Ludwig commented, glancing out the window as well.

                Feliciano blinked, roused from his pondering of the small scar on Ludwig’s thumb, shining bright in this light and wondering if he had paint pale enough to capture it just right. He laughed. “Of course he paints—just look at the world around you. Such vivid details, intricate designs, the varieties of color… Without a doubt, he’s a painter! Ask anyone—expect Lovino; he’ll get started on projecting human characteristics onto God and how it’s blasphemy, and really, you’ll lose a whole afternoon if you do.”

                Ludwig snorted straight into his cup, his hand jerking hard enough to make his drink splash up the sides. “I’ll… I’ll keep it in mind.”

                The painter grinned and decided he didn’t care if his fingers were warm or frostbitten before reaching out to entangle his fingers with his boyfriend’s. Ludwig’s cheeks colored—such a pretty shade, not quite rose but paler than light pink—but he didn’t pull his hand away and that’s the important part. Being here, together even if they were separated by the table, and enjoying that moment was the important thing.

                Still, all dates had to end. Ludwig had to work bright and early in the morning—with the holidays around the corner, crimes rose along with the stress and sales, and Ludwig was sure to be kept running all day long at work. Feliciano threaded his fingers into Ludwig’s once again as they stepped out, this time earning one of policeman’s rare smiles, as they stepped back into the rain, ducking beneath Ludwig’s umbrella as it continued to pour down.

                They chatted as they walked down the street until they reached the bus stop —or rather, in reality Feliciano chattered away like a happy bird while Ludwig nodded and sometimes managed to sneak in a reply while Feliciano paused for a breath. They sat together, Feliciano still jabbering away while Ludwig let the sound of his lover’s voice wash over him until the bus arrived.

                There was no long kiss goodnight, even though Feliciano would have loved one. To be fair, Ludwig liked to kiss him just as much, but the blond refused to do so in plain sight on a sidewalk while night steadily crept in on them. Feliciano still squeezed Ludwig’s hand one more time before letting go and jumping up to his feet as the bus neared.

                “You should take the umbrella,” Ludwig frowned, watching as rained continued to fall down like waves, shining in the headlights of passing cars.

                “Don’t be silly,” he laughed, feet still planted firmly where they were as he tried to savor one last moment with Ludwig. “You’re the one with the longer walk. I’ll be fine! _Buonanotte, amore.”_

                Ludwig tried to hide behind a sigh, but Feliciano saw how his lips twitched upward as he stood. “Buonanotte,” he repeated, his accent not quite managing to say it right. It made Feliciano smile all the more.

                Waving goodbye, Feliciano quickly scrambled up the bus’s steps before hurrying to take a seat, missing the miffed driver shouting at him to come back and pay his fare. He waved again and smiled as the bus finally pulled away, leaving Ludwig at the stop. The rain quickly washed away visibility, but Feliciano liked to imagine that he could still see his boyfriend standing every watchful as he disappeared down the road. Settling into his seat, Feliciano smiled and quietly thanked God and every saint he could think of for the joy in his life. Behind him another passenger coughed and hacked loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth, but not even that could ruin the golden warmth bubbling in the painter’s tummy.

                When he got off the bus, he danced down the road in the dark, never minding the downpour that would soak him. Lovino yelled at him when he finally made it back and Seborga laughed that he looked like a wet mop. Feliciano merely laughed and hid in his room even as Lovino yelled at him to stop tracking water everywhere and go dry himself. Sensible advice, but the only thing on his mind was painting the image from the window of the bus, of faithful Ludwig watching him, tall and beautiful even in the torrents of rain.

                The painting was mostly finished before Feliciano remembered to pull off his soaked clothes. Even as he sniffled and tugged off his damp shirt, Feliciano grinned at the painting. Abstract expressionism was not his preferred style, but looking at the bold strokes and vague shape of Ludwig, Feliciano couldn’t help but think that for once he was truly satisfied with a painting. Or he would be once it was finished. He laughed and reached for the brush again, adding a little more white to highlight Ludwig from the dark.  



End file.
